for horses,” she called over her shoulder.
Two long strides and he caught up with her. Though he admired her independent streak, he was too worried about her to leave her alone. Hell, he wanted to be with her after what had just happened. Though he was asking for trouble, taking care of Grace came first.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, he walked alongside her. He sensed her need to keep moving, to not think about being attacked. She was probably in shock and he understood. But the numbness would wear off and he planned to be there when the impact set in.
“Where are you off to?” he asked.
“Subway.”
He shook his head. No way he’d let her go alone. The first few times he’d followed her, he’d ducked into a crowded subway car and tailed her at a discreet distance. Today, wanting things to appear coincidental, he’d taken his car.
“Subway’s not safe.”
She stopped in her tracks and turned toward him. Glazed but determined eyes looked up at him. “It’s been safe enough for as long as I’ve been coming here.”
“So was the neighborhood until today. Let me drive you home. My car is around the corner.”
Gratitude flickered in her eyes, but she shook her head. “No, thanks. I can get home myself.”
“I’m sure you can.” Unable to help himself, he reached out and touched her cheek and she turned her face into his open palm, until he cradled her face in his hand.
She was so soft. Her skin, her voice…but not what was inside. Emma knew her granddaughter well. Grace was tough. And as much as she might want to give in, she wouldn’t let herself lean on him.
He admired her strength, even if right now, he wanted to conquer it. “There’s nothing wrong with accepting help every once in a while.”
She smiled. “I know that.”
“Then lean on me now.” He treated her to his most charming grin. “And I promise I’ll let you ditch me later.” And he hoped to hell she did toss him out. Because Ben wasn’t sure he had what it would take to drag himself away from her.
CHAPTER THREE
GRACE HANDED BEN the keys and let him unlock the door to her apartment. She was too tired to do it herself and, besides, her hands stung worse than when she’d fallen off her bike as a kid. She wasn’t ready to think through today’s ordeal—or the threat the punk had made to her before Ben ran him off.
Stay out of this neighborhood, or else.
She squared her shoulders. Just because he’d scared her to death didn’t mean she’d listen to threats. Grace came from a family of strong people who did what they wanted, the rest of the world be damned. And though she rarely cited her family as having virtues, this time, she was prepared to emulate that one trait. After she took care of her cuts and bruises and after she got rid of Ben. His strong presence made it too easy to want to lean on him. Too easy to succumb and lose the thread of independence she’d begun to weave.
He stepped inside and held the door open for her to do the same. She walked past him. He wasn’t dressed for the office, his hair was mussed and hadn’t seen a barber’s scissors in quite a while. Still, he was the most appealing sight she’d ever laid eyes on.
Independence be damned, the man was right. Leaning on him wouldn’t be so bad. In fact she’d probably enjoy it and heaven knew being around Ben made the threat of danger seem less real.
“You can put the keys and camera on the shelf.” She pointed to the etched glass shelf “floating” from the wall.
He stepped around her. The keys made an unnaturally loud sound as they clattered onto the glass. “You need to take care of those hands.”
She nodded.
“Where’s the antiseptic?” he asked.
Someone else taking care of her was a novel experience, which was probably what made it so appealing. Except for her grandmother, no one in her family ever made her feel loved for herself. Her mother tried, but thanks to her father’s bullying, she’d always fallen short. But for her brother, Logan, no male in her family had ever made her feel warm or cared for. In fact, her father, with his impossibly high standards and demands, diminished her self-worth and made her more insecure than any child ought to be.
But Ben had held her the entire walk to his car, making her feel safe and cherished. After seeing him with the kids at the park and viewing his unwavering concern for her now, she knew more than sexual attraction drew her to him.
She tipped her head upward and met his concerned gaze. He caused her to feel a whole host of emotions. None platonic. All solid and good.
“Grace? The antiseptic.”
She gave herself a shake. “In the kitchen. The cabinet to the left of the microwave.” She followed him the short distance and waited in her small walk-in kitchen while he sorted through the cabinet and came up with a light antiseptic to clean her cuts, an antibiotic cream and bandages.
He took the box off the shelf and held it up for inspection. “Barney?”
Grace felt a heated flush creep up her face. “I knew I ought to keep something in the house just in case, and well…that’s all they had.”
He laughed, his features softening, a dimple appearing in his right cheek. She raised her hand and touched a finger to the enticing crease. His skin was hot and rough with razor stubble.
He sucked in a startled breath and she dropped her hand. “Don’t play with fire, Gracie. Unless you want…”
“To get burned?” She met his heavy-lidded gaze. “I admit to liking the idea. I always had to be the good girl. I never crossed the street without an adult and I never played with matches. I’m tired of being good. I want to play with fire.” She wanted to play with him.
Though she’d never been so bold before, something about Ben made her feel free…to be herself, Grace realized. And it felt good.
His hands came to rest on her hips. Large palms and hot skin.
Before she realized his intent, he lifted her up and placed her on the kitchen counter. “First we see to your hands and neck.”
Grace smiled. Let him tend to her injuries first. She’d get a chance to question him more about who he was and where he’d come from. The pull between them wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
“Turn your hands palms up.” Ben desperately needed the distraction of caring for her injuries before he forgot them in favor of her enticing yet innocent proposition.
She did as he asked. He washed his hands at the sink, then returned to her side and saturated a cotton ball. With care he wiped down her dirt-streaked hands, cleaning the scrapes. Except for the first time when she sucked in a pain-filled breath, she didn’t utter a word of complaint and let him work.
“You’re good at this. Get much practice?”
He recognized her attempt to distract herself from what must sting like the devil, but he also recognized a feminine ploy to extract information.
Still she was so guileless in her attempt, he couldn’t help but indulge her. “No younger siblings to take care of if that’s what you’re asking.” He reached for a fresh piece of cotton to pat down her hand and then opened the antibiotic cream.
Using his thumbs, he gently rubbed the center of her palms, massaging the ointment into her pale but soft skin—skin marred only by the bruises inflicted when she’d hit the sidewalk. The urge to lift her hand to his lips and ease her pain was strong.
The urge to comfort warred with the more primal desire to wrap her in his arms and protect her from harm. And it had nothing to do with the case.
Damn, but Grace Montgomery